Lake Como (17 page)

“Your mother was afraid Sophia would take you from her. If she had known she would have demanded custody.”

“I understand that.” Hallie’s shoulders sagged as if she was a balloon with a steady leak. “But she could have told me when I was fifteen or twenty or twenty-five.”

“She must have a reason.” Angus tugged on his fishing line.

“I can’t talk to her.” Hallie shook her head. “Every time I pick up the phone I start shaking.”

“Why don’t you ask your grandmother?”

“Constance had a series of strokes last year.” Hallie felt a tug on her line. She reeled it in but the wire went slack. “The shock might give her a heart attack.”

“It sounds like you love your grandmother,” Angus mused. “And you had a pretty gifted childhood.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t complain because I grew up on top of Pacific Heights and attended the opera and the ballet?” Hallie fumed. “I missed out on a father, I barely know my brother, and I could be even closer to Portia.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Angus concentrated on his fishing pole.

“You’re right.” Hallie slumped onto the bench. “I love everything about San Francisco: the cable cars, sourdough bread, the botanical gardens at Golden Gate Park. And my mother is smart and bright and makes the most delicious German chocolate cake.” Hallie sighed. “But she didn’t give me a choice.”

Angus frowned as something pulled on his line. He stood on the edge of the boat, his muscles tense. He pitched the line and reeled in a large orange fish.

“You’re good luck.” Angus let the fish thrash on the floor of the boat. “I haven’t caught a big one in weeks.”

“Thanks for listening,” Hallie mumbled. She suddenly regretted telling her intimate secrets to a stranger.

“Have you told your boyfriend?” Angus asked.

“He’s in San Francisco,” Hallie replied, watching the fish’s tail flap back and forth.

“Is he a serious boyfriend?”

“We’re almost engaged.”

“You’re a long way from an almost-fiancé.” Angus unhooked the fish’s mouth.

“We were working through some things,” Hallie replied, feeling her line tense. She leaned over the side of the boat, trying to locate the fish. Suddenly it leaped into the air, pulling her line and throwing her back in the boat. She slipped on the wood and landed on her back.

“Are you okay?” Angus reached down to help her up. Instead of lifting her to her feet, he crouched down and gathered her in an embrace. His mouth found hers, his lips sweet and tangy like lime soda.

Hallie knew kissing Angus was wrong. It was wrong the way the lie about Phillip Elliot was wrong, the way she still saw Peter’s hands on Kendra’s skirt was wrong, the way she, with her Grace Kelly blond hair, was a Tesoro, was wrong. Kissing Angus on a fishing boat in the middle of Lake Como was so wrong, it felt right. If she could stay in his arms, all the other wrongs would fade away.

“Angus.” Hallie pulled away, missing his strong arms the moment she left them.

“I’m sorry, blame it on the heat.” Angus straightened up. “Hey, you caught one.” He pointed to the fish thrashing in the corner.

“It’s huge,” Hallie replied, trying to hide the blush that grazed her cheeks.

“I’ll cook them for dinner.” Angus held it up. “Over a bed of risotto with a tomato and mozzarella salad.”

“I can’t.” Hallie shook her head.

“You don’t want to go back to the villa and eat with your grandmother and your father.” Angus steered the boat toward the Villa Luce.

Hallie could still feel his lips on her mouth. “Peter might call.”

“You’re beautiful and vulnerable and I took advantage of you,” Angus said seriously. “I promise it won’t happen again. Join me for dinner and I’ll take you back to the villa in the speedboat. You can slip into bed and not have to face Pliny and Sophia.”

Hallie pictured the long dining table set with fine bone china. She imagined Sophia grilling her about her headache, Pliny being solicitous and charming. She pictured sitting through five long courses without Portia to speed things along.

“Okay.” Hallie nodded. “I’ve never eaten Lavarello before.”

“It’s delicious, and it’s local to Lake Como.” Angus tied the boat up at the dock. “If you’re going to get to know your home, you have to eat the local fish.”

“It’s not my home,” Hallie started saying.

“It is at the moment.” Angus jumped out of the boat. “Your designs are fabulous, Max is pleased.”

They stopped in the vegetable garden and picked tomatoes from the vine. They pulled green beans and asparagus and heads of sweet butter lettuce. Angus grabbed two lemons from the orchard and six long-stemmed roses from the rose garden.

“These are for you.” He handed them to Hallie.

“I can’t accept presents.” Hallie inhaled the rich fragrance.

“You caught dinner,” Angus protested. “And you’re going to help me scale the fish.”

“I am?” Hallie shuddered.

“I can’t do it alone, I get queasy when I touch fish scales.”

“I’m not handling raw fish!” Hallie exclaimed.

“Then you can slice tomatoes and cut the lemons,” Angus suggested.

“Deal,” Hallie said, clutching the roses against her chest.

*   *   *

Hallie and Angus stood in the kitchen, cooking fish on the industrial-sized grill. Angus produced round wheels of mozzarella from the fridge and virgin olive oil from the pantry. He stirred a pot of risotto, adding garlic and onions and thyme. Hallie found platters and bowls and set them on the table on the balcony.

Angus served the risotto and poured two glasses of red wine. “Everything tastes better when it’s shared.”

“Do you ever eat with Max?” Hallie asked. The sun was setting and Hallie could see the heat shimmering on the lake. The sky turned pink and gray, and the villages looked like a scene out of a picture book.

“Max travels a lot. He’s in Pisa and from there he’s going to Verona and Genoa.”

“Does it feel odd, living in someone else’s house?” Hallie tasted the fish. It was light and buttery and blended smoothly with the risotto.

“Archaeologists are squatters. We’re always pitching tents on foreign real estate.” Angus ate a large mouthful of rice and fish. “I keep Max’s estate running smoothly, when intruders aren’t sneaking into the hall of mirrors.”

“I didn’t mean to sneak in.” Hallie grimaced.

“I’m glad you did.” Angus sipped his wine. “It’s nice to hear the sound of a woman’s footsteps in the halls.”

“Thank you for listening to me today.” Hallie put down her fork. “But I—”

“I meant what I said earlier,” Angus interrupted. “We can be friends, like Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher.”

“I was never a tomboy.” Hallie’s shoulders relaxed. “I have a large Barbie doll collection.”

“I don’t expect you to wear blond braids and suspenders”—Angus refilled his wineglass—“but maybe we can fish together. I’ll show you different parts of the lake.”

Hallie concentrated on the tomatoes and mozzarella drizzled in olive oil. The mozzarella was sweet, not like any she’d eaten in San Francisco. She glanced at the mosaic tile floor, the Corinthian columns, the sweeping views from Como to Cenobio.

Hallie shivered, thinking she should be sitting in a café on Fillmore, sharing a plate of tapas with Peter. She should be drinking Napa Valley pinot noir instead of Italian cabernet. She should go home to her apartment on Russian Hill and climb into her king-sized bed. She should know who she was, where she belonged, instead of having a last name that was fiction.

“It’s been a long day.” Hallie tried to keep the tears from her eyes. “I can take the ferry back.”

“And miss me showing off my boating skills?” Angus collected dishes and plates. “I’ve been practicing since I was a kid with a rubber dingy in the bathtub.”

*   *   *

Hallie sat in the back of the speedboat, her arms hugging her chest. The lake shimmered like diamonds laid out on black velvet. Angus seemed very tall, his hands clasped around the steering wheel. His hair was thick reddish brown and his eyes had yellow flecks in the moonlight.

“Safe and sound.” Angus jumped onto the dock. He reached for Hallie’s hand and helped her out of the boat.

“Thanks for dinner, it was delicious,” Hallie replied.

“If you ever need a shoulder to cry on”—Angus squeezed her hand—“mine are pretty big.”

“I’ll remember that.” Hallie paused. Angus stood so close she could smell wine and garlic and thyme. He reached down to kiss her cheek and she turned and ran up the steps to the villa.

chapter thirteen

Hallie sat in the small salon, leafing through
House & Garden
. She had waited until she saw Pliny untie the boat from the dock, until she heard Sophia close the door of her study. Then she crept downstairs and filled a plate with berries, toast, and scrambled eggs. She managed to eat three bites of egg before the events of yesterday came rushing back to her. Then she abandoned the plate and sank into a sofa in the salon.

Hallie still didn’t know what to do with her new knowledge. She gazed at the frescos on the ceiling, the silk curtains on the windows, and felt a ping deep inside her. She was a Tesoro and this magnificent villa with its history and gilt furniture were in some way part of her. She had come close to knocking on Pliny’s door, but at the last minute she froze. He might be furious with Francesca and throw Hallie out. Or he might put his arms around Hallie and embrace her.

“A gentleman is asking for you.” Lea stood at the door in her black uniform and white apron.

Hallie closed the magazine. It was probably Alfonso, returned from Milan with the silk swatches he promised her. She glanced in the mirror over the fireplace and frowned. It could be Angus offering her a ride to Villa Luce.

When she woke up she lay in bed, and thought about her evening with Angus. The kiss was wrong, even dinner was wrong. From now on she would keep their relationship strictly professional. But when she closed her eyes she saw his broad shoulders, pictured him reeling in the big orange fish, and was glad she spent time with him.

“Hey,” a voice said behind her. “Or should I say,
buona sera
.”

Hallie turned around and saw Peter standing at the door. He wore jeans and a Giants T-shirt and carried a khaki backpack. He looked young and clean and all-American.

“Peter!” Hallie exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not much of a greeting.” He grinned, walking over to Hallie and kissing her on the lips.

“I’m thrilled,” Hallie said when he finally released her. He smelled like deodorant and airplane peanuts. “I just had no idea.”

“I got the interview with the think tank in Paris,” Peter explained. “I decided to stop here on the way.”

“I could have picked you up in Milan,” Hallie replied.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Peter smiled. His teeth were white and straight and shiny. “You look gorgeous, almost Italian.”

Hallie glanced at her orange Pucci dress and strapless Gucci sandals. Her arms and legs were tan and she wore an enamel clip in her hair.

“I’ve spent a lot of time on the lake,” Hallie murmured.

“Lake Como is beautiful.” Peter nodded, admiring the artwork on the wall and the bronze statue by the fireplace. “And the villa is amazing, I’ve never seen so much marble.”

“All the villas on the lake are spectacular,” Hallie agreed. Her stomach did little flips and her heart raced. Peter was like a ghost from another life. She couldn’t believe they were standing together in the Tesoro salon.

“I want a full tour,” Peter said. “But right now I’m starving. All I ate on the plane was cardboard pizza and Styrofoam coffee.”

“I don’t think Lea has removed breakfast yet.” Hallie walked across the hall to the dining room.

Peter loaded his plate with waffles and berries and fresh whipped cream. He drank a tall glass of orange juice and a demitasse of coffee. He ate everything and went back for eggs, wheat toast, and slices of melon.

“The food is delicious.” Peter wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Is this all just for breakfast?”

“Sophia takes pride in the Tesoro cuisine,” Hallie said. “Dinner is at least five courses.”

“Where is everyone?” Peter asked, refilling his coffee cup.

“Pliny is out on the lake and Sophia is in her study,” Hallie replied. “Portia and Riccardo are in Capri. They’re almost back together.”

“Then you can come home!” Peter put down his coffee, his eyes sparkling. “We can return together after I come back from France.”

“I can’t leave now,” Hallie murmured.

“You came to keep Portia company,” Peter said tersely. “She’s on holiday with her husband.”

“I have a job,” Hallie replied. “I have to finish it.”

“There are hundreds of interior designers in Italy,” Peter argued. “I want you to come home.”

“Designing the Villa Luce is very important to me; it’s a golden opportunity.”

“Christ, Hallie,” Peter grumbled, suddenly angry. “You’ve been here almost a month.”

“If I finish this job, I can open my own firm.” Hallie stood up and walked to the buffet.

“I thought you liked working for Kendra.” Peter stood beside her. “Is this still about the wedding at City Hall? I haven’t seen Kendra in weeks.”

“It’s not about Kendra.” Hallie shook her head. “If you saw the Villa Luce, you’d understand. I’m going on my first buying trip next week, I’m so excited.”

“I’d love to see it,” Peter suggested. “Let’s go after breakfast.”

Hallie flinched. “I can’t just show up with you. Max is a recluse, with a particular dislike for journalists and photographers.”

“Sounds like the kind of guy I’d like to meet.” Peter grinned mischievously.

Hallie glanced at her watch. “I’m late. I should get to work.”

“You’re not going to take a siesta with me?” Peter whispered. He put one arm around her waist and the other smoothly beneath her dress. He flicked the top of her underwear and slipped his hand underneath the thin fabric.

“Peter!” Hallie protested. His hand felt warm and familiar. “Lea could walk in any second.”

“Show me where your bedroom is,” Peter murmured. “I’m going to lie down and sleep for eight hours.”

“You can’t stay here.” Hallie felt his hand pressed between her thighs. “Portia doesn’t even bring Riccardo upstairs.”